


Scars That Don't Heal

by thinmint_writer



Series: Iron Widow [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Family, Black Widow - Freeform, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Implied miscarriage, Iron Man - Freeform, IronWidow - Freeform, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pregnancy, Rare Ship, Tony x Natasha, Tonynat, Wakanda, give it a chance, it might be really good, not graphic, okoye is the best friend, t'challa is basically a brother, you never know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-10 00:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18649003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinmint_writer/pseuds/thinmint_writer
Summary: Natasha cried while it happened. Not just cried, sobbed. The Black Widow—trained assassin, emotionless spy, the weapon built of bones—reduced to tears and screams of pain and sorrow---In which Natasha Romanoff betrays her secret boyfriend, Tony Stark, and runs away to Wakanda with team cap, only to find out that she's pregnant.





	Scars That Don't Heal

**Author's Note:**

> So there is miscarriage in this story, but it's not graphic, and they don't even really use the word. Just warning you guys.

“Natasha,” Tony began as they laid in bed, late that night. “What am I to you?”

She sighed as she rolled over in his arms, looking into his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… am I just another one of the Black Widow’s conquests? Another notch in your belt; a notch in your belt. Or am I different?”

Natasha wondered how to put it. In the end, she put it in a term she knew applied to her life. “If I killed someone, you would be the first person I called. You’d be the one to help me drag the body across the floor.” She snuggled a bit closer to him. “You’re my person, Tony. You’re for me.”

“I love you.”

“And I,” she paused, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure she could say it. She wanted to—she really did—but it had been too long since she had permitted herself to love. “Goodnight, Tony.”

—

Natasha and Tony stood in the hospital, staring out a window. “Steve’s not gonna stop,” the red-haired woman informed her lover, voice as cold as her soul. “If you don’t either, Rhodey’s gonna be the best case scenario.”

He looked at her with hurt in his eyes. “You let them go, Nat.”

“We played this wrong,” she insisted sternly.

“‘We?’” Tony scoffed, a bit hurt that his own girlfriend took the other side. “Boy, it must be hard to shake the whole double agent thing, huh? It sticks in the DNA.”

“Are you incapable of letting go of your ego for one goddamn second?” Natasha was angry. She loved him—she couldn’t doubt it for a moment—but she was angry.

Tony just wished things had turned out differently; better. “T'Challa told Ross what you did so… they’re coming for you.” He didn’t want to say goodbye, but he knew he had to.

“I’m not the one that needs to watch their back.” With that, Natasha walked away as her boyfriend watched, knowing that things would never be the same again. He wished he had known then that she wasn’t threatening him. She was warning him.

—

Natasha fled with Steve, to avoid being imprisoned in the raft. They released all their friends first, and then they left. T'Challa offered them places in his palace—as a way to repent for attempting to kill Barnes. Because they knew they had nowhere else to go, the team accepted.

It’s been a month since the fight in Germany, and Natasha had been… off. She was worried about Tony, of course, but Steve said he was fine. She didn’t know what to believe, so she chose to accept this as the truth. It was unlike her, but at this point she didn’t have much of a choice.

There were physical changes too. She was frequently nauseous, and had puked more than a few times. She had to use the bathroom nearly twice an hour, even when she didn’t drink that much. She was always tired and her breasts were slightly swollen. She knew what the symptoms were, but… she didn’t think it was possible. Not ever. Not now—oh God, not now.

Eventually, after she yakked up her breakfast for the third time that week, Steve convinced her to go to Shuri’s medical lab about it. Well, more like he dragged her there; Natasha was almost certain she knew what was wrong, but she didn’t want to be. Not now.

“Well, Ms Romanoff,” Shuri began, scanning through the results on a hologram being projected out of her kimoyo beads. “Both the urine test and the blood test indicate that you are expecting.”

Steve, who was still in the room, very much concerned for his friend’s well being, felt his eyes go wide. “What?” That wasn’t much of a surprise; her relationship with Tony Stark had been a secret from the start. The only ones that knew were Clint and Hill, and very possibly Fury. “That’s impossible. She’s not with anyone.”

“The tests don’t lie, Captain,” Shuri insisted in a scientific voice, once again reminding Natasha of her ex-lover. “Ms Romanoff is pregnant.”

Steve looked at her, confused. “Nat, who?” Natasha shrunk down into her chair meekly, groaning a little as she realized the horrible timing and the beautiful inconvenience of it all. “Who’s the father, Nat? I thought we trusted one another—no matter what.”

She buried her face in her palms. “It’s Tony.”

To say this shocked Steve was an understatement. “What?”

“The baby is Tony’s,” Natasha repeated. “We’ve been together since New York.”

“Now York?” The man was more confused than ever. “That’s… almost five years. And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“We told a few people,” the red-head admitted. “But we wanted to keep it a secret. And now… I’m not sure we’re together anymore. I don’t think we are.”

Steve felt a sudden sympathy for the woman, having not previously realized everything she had left behind—to help him. “I’m sorry, Nat.” Her friend rested his arm on her shoulder.

She sighed and nodded, pretending to be okay. But she wasn’t. How was she supposed to raise a baby alone?

And what hurt the most, she’d have to say, was that even after five years, Natasha never told him she loved him. Not once.

—

Nine weeks.

Natasha was nine weeks pregnant.

Nine weeks pregnant with a child whose father was still unaware of her existence.

Steve, Wanda, and Sam did as much as they could, but all she could think about was Tony. At this point, she was unsure she would ever see him again. She was even less sure that her child would ever meet him. And it broke her heart.

But she had to be strong, because she couldn’t have a child if she was going to be weak.

What kind of upbringing would the child even have? Hiding from the law in a hidden, high-tech country. Father unaware of their existence. What kind of life?

—

Ten weeks.

Natasha was beginning to see the slightly brighter side of things now. She wouldn’t be alone, at least. Not that she was alone now. Her three fellow runaway Avengers were a bit upset that she and Tony hid a relationship from them for five years, but given her situation, they tried to be sympathetic.

T'Challa was supportive, at least. Natasha wouldn’t call the two of them friends, but they were getting there. He had already told her she could have a nursery in their hallway of the palace.

The only thing that was really missing for her was Tony Stark. The one that got away. Or maybe, he was the one that stayed, waiting—maybe she was the one that got away.

—

Eleven Weeks.

Natasha had surprisingly formed a bond with Okoye, which actually might not be surprising given their similar interests. Loyalty over love; no other way to see it in the eyes of the two women.

But Okoye told Natasha she should tell Tony; he had a right to know. The warrior had a point, but she just didn’t know if she could do it. The ex-spy wasn’t even sure Tony wanted kids. They had talked about it a few times, in abstract, and he seemed to like the idea. But he was so terrified of screwing up a child, the same way his dad did for him.

Personally, she thought he would make a good father. Though he had little interaction with children, every once in a while through some event or at a restaurant he would be approached by small children, giddy in the presence of the heroes. The smile that would appear on his face and the goofy composure he would suddenly gain were evidence enough that he would do well.

But she may never know.

—

Twelve weeks pregnant.

Twelve weeks and Natasha was continuing to attempt to see the bright side of her situation.

Soon, she would know the gender of her child. An annoying aspect, though, was the fact that Steve insisted on practically waiting on her hand and foot. Wanda was as well, and was also brainstorming names for the child. Sam was still caught up on the whole secret relationship thing, and mostly asked a lot of questionable questions about the ordeal.

Several times now, Natasha had gotten out her phone, which she had modified to be untraceable, and hovered her thumb over Tony’s contact. Several times, she had thought about just asking T'Challa if he could jet her home to New York. But several times she decided against it.

Every day it seemed more and more unlikely that the Avengers would ever get together. After all, the world had gone a record amount of time without trying to end; maybe they dissipated just before they became useless. She knew this wasn’t true, but still, it made her feel better about the situation.

—

Thirteen weeks.

This far along, everything seemed to be going great. The first trimester was nearly over, and if you looked hard enough, you could see the early beginnings of her swollen stomach. She seemed healthy; she seemed normal.

That’s why no one, especially not Natasha, saw it coming.

It happened while she was watching television with Sam in the common room of the hallway T'Challa had given them. One second, they were watching Criminal Minds, and the next she was curled up in a ball, arms folded tightly over her stomach to try and compress some of the pain. She was trying hard not to cry; she was used to pain after all—but this was different. In less than a minute, Wanda was by her side as Sam left to find Steve. The ex-spy let out a low groan as she felt the pain jolt through her midsection. Wanda ran her fingers through the woman’s long red hair. Both of them knew what was happening, though neither of them wanted to admit it.

A few minutes later, Wanda coaxed her friend to the bathroom, and she locked the door behind them. And they didn’t leave for a while. 

Wanda sat her down in the bathtub, and Natasha cried while it happened. Not just cried, sobbed. The Black Widow—trained assassin, emotionless spy, the weapon built of bones—reduced to tears and screams of pain and sorrow. Steve and Sam paced anxiously outside the bathroom door. They all knew what was happening, but none wanted to acknowledge it; none wanted to make it true.

Natasha threw out the clothes she wore that day. They could be cleaned, but she didn’t want them. All they did was remind her of what she had lost.

For weeks afterwards, she barely ate, barely slept, and barely spoke. About a month after the event, in an episode of sadness, she took a pair of scissors and hacked off most of her hair. Wanda went back later and smoothed it out, turning it into a nice even bob before bleaching it blonde. Natasha needed to feel new—she needed to not be her any longer.

With the help of her friends, she began to pick up her life; rebuild it brick by brick. Because she couldn’t stand to look at them any longer, Natasha trashed anything and everything that had anything to do with the pregnancy or the baby. She needed to start over; and it worked.

She was happy again. She was smiling and joking with her friends. She was going for runs around the outskirts of the city before daybreak with Sam and Steve, and helping Wanda work through the kinks in her fighting. She was sparring with Okoye when the general had a free moment, and visiting Bucky from time to time. She was chatting with T'Challa like an old friend. 

And sometimes, for pure sentimentality, she went to Shuri’s lab; watching the teenager work reminded her so much of watching Tony. It made her heart flutter in both an amazing and painful way, as she remembered what she had left behind. 

For the most part, she was herself again. But that feeling—the feeling that she lost something—never left.

After another month, Natasha decided it was finally time to tell Tony; about everything. Tell him sorry. Tell him about the baby. Tell him everything. So one day, she sat down on the couch, notebook and pen in hand, and began to write a letter to her lost love.

—

Months after the fight in Germany, after he said goodbye to Natasha, Tony received a letter in the mail. It was unmarked, except for his address written in a familiar handwriting. He ripped it open and read it immediately. She didn’t have to sign it; the handwriting was like being greeted by an old friend.

_Tony, I know what I did hurt you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re back at the compound with Rhodey; we all need family. Don’t worry about me; Steve, Sam, and Wanda have been giving me more care than I can stand. I’m sorry I couldn’t be that family for you. I’m sorry that I never told you I loved you, when I knew that I did. I’m sorry for all the secrets and the lies; you deserved to know. When I left, I didn’t know; I would’ve told you if I had, but no time ever seemed like the right time once we split. I was pregnant, Tony; it was yours. I lost the baby, and I was destroyed for a while. And when I came out the other side, I realized something; if you love someone, you tell them, even if you’re scared. You say it, because you can, and one day you won’t be able to. I know it’s five years too late, but I have to tell you before I can’t. I loved you, Tony. I’m still in love with you; I tried not to be, but it didn’t work. I think I’m always going to love you. I can’t imagine a day when I won’t be in love with you. I’m sorry things didn’t work out. I hurt you, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. I only want you to be happy, and I’m sorry I failed to do that. But I will always love you, because when you love someone, you don’t just stop. That’s all I have to say; just, I’m sorry. For everything. Maybe one day we’ll be together again. Only time will tell. But remember this: I love you._

Tony was crying by the end of the letter. He almost had a child. They almost had a child. For the first time since the beginning of their relationship, she said the words he had always wanted to hear. I love you. And he knew what he had to do. He immediately pulled out the phone Steve Rogers had given him, just in case of emergency, and hit the green call button, bringing it to his ear.

Some time ago, he thought he lost her. A few months ago, she lost their child. Now, he was going to find her. And unlike last time, he wouldn’t let a fight tear them apart so easily.


End file.
